


You Make Your Own Decisions That Come With Regrets

by sea_level



Category: Atlantic Rim (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Innuendo, M/M, Multi, Pining, Post Atlantic Rim, Relationship Negotiation, Very Little Actual Sexual Content, a bit of a character study, frank discussions of sex, jim pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 13:14:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15389523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sea_level/pseuds/sea_level
Summary: Red comes to Jim looking for ways to up his sex game.(A bit crackish at the start, but the end is more serious.)





	You Make Your Own Decisions That Come With Regrets

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this for a couple months, and I needed to just...finish it. I don't need this sitting there, nagging at me.
> 
> There's a good reason there aren't any Atlantic Rim fics first because the movie sucks and like baaarely in the so bad it's good way, but like...there's literally nothing out there. I couldn't do nothing. God knows why I did _this_ though.
> 
> Title is a mishearing of Defeat You by Smash Mouth ("you make your own _incisions_ that come with regrets"), though the song has nothing to do with the fic.

Red barges into Jim’s room without warning. “Jim,” he says, “we gotta talk.”

Jim sighs and tabs his book, setting it down on his bedside table. “What’s this about?” he asks.

“Tracey,” Red says bluntly. “We’re having another fight. I want advice.”

Jim entertains the idea of telling Red that maybe he should treat Tracey with more respect, but he knows it won’t have the desired effect. Red’s only really here for support, and he expects Jim to be giving.

Jim’s more than a little tired of dealing with this, but he steels himself, forces a smile, and says, “What’s the fight over this time?”

“You, actually,” Red says. He’s looking down his nose at Jim, and he’s got this odd glint in his eyes that Jim can’t quite decipher. “See, we were trying to have sex, and apparently I wasn’t doing something right because she mentioned you and your”--Red opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out in mimicry of _something_.

“Okay!” Jim cuts him off. He closes his eyes and groans. Red and Tracey might have an open relationship--a fact that he has taken advantage of from time to time--but there are some decisions he’s made in relation to that that he now very much regrets.

“Look,” he says, “if you want me to back off, I completely understand.”

Red’s brows furrow in confusion, “What? No, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?” Jim asks. “Look, if I’m interfering in your relationship, I’m out.”

“No,” Red says, “no, hold on, I don’t care if you and Tracey are fucking. Jesus, calm down. Look, it’s obviously about being the better sexual partner. I can’t have you topping me.”

It takes Jim a few seconds to parse what Red’s saying. “So you want me to be--what? Worse in bed?” He desperately wants out of this conversation. He doesn’t understand how Red can just talk about him having sex with his girlfriend like it’s not weird.

Red shrugs. “That’s more up to you than me, man. I don’t really care what you do, I’m asking for advice on how to step up my game.”

“And how do you expect me to give you this advice?” Jim asks.

“I dunno,” Red says. “You can show me, I guess.”

Jim nearly chokes. “Show you?” How the fuck does Red expect him to _show_ him. What’s even worse is that he’s considering it. Jesus, if Red didn’t look like _that_ , he probably would have stopped giving him relationship advice a long time ago.

Red shrugs again. “You’re smart. You can figure it out.” He claps Jim on the shoulder and shoots him an absolutely filthy grin on the way out. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that the guy’s straight.

Jim stares at the closed door for a solid minute before reaching blindly for his book. He tries to force himself to focus on it in a futile attempt to take his mind off of the conversation he’s just had. What the fuck.

 

* * *

 

Jim meets Tracey for breakfast early the next morning. She, at least, looks well rested. She’s already finished most of her meal and has moved on to sipping her coffee when Jim finally garners the courage to tell her what’s going on.

“Red stopped by my room last night,” he says.

“Uh-huh,” Tracey replies.

“He asked me to show him how to pleasure you better,” Jim continues as quickly as he can, not giving himself a chance to back out.

To Tracey’s credit, she doesn’t choke on her drink. Instead, she stops sipping and slowly sets her cup down on the table, her eyes wide. “He really did that, huh?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Jim replies.

“Damn,” Tracey says.

“Yeah.” Jim nods.

“You should do it,” Tracey says, completely unexpectedly. “If you had sex with him, you’d know.”

“I don’t think I want to know,” Jim says. It’s not a lie if Jim doesn’t acknowledge the attraction he’s buried deep, deep down.

“It gets so repetitive,” Tracey continues like she didn’t even hear him. “His pretty mug kinda makes up for it, but _come on_.”

 

* * *

 

Jim emails Red some educational videos and scrubs his internet history of any evidence.

Red replies with a single thumbs up emoji.

Jim breathes a sigh of relief. That’s a serious weight off of his shoulders. At least the whole ordeal should be over.

Except apparently, it isn’t. Red corners him in the shower room after a mandatory workout.

“I watched the videos you sent,” Red says. His expression is indiscernible, and Jim can’t tell where this conversation is going to go. The part of him that he doesn’t acknowledge takes in the gleam of sweat on Red’s skin, the definition of his musculature, the way he’s kind of leaning in close-- Jim derails that train of thought quickly.

“Great,” he says, trying not so sound strained.

Red says, “Right, and I practiced on my--” Jim sends him a sharp look and is extremely grateful when Red doesn’t finish the sentence. “Anyways,” Red continues, “it’s a good starting point. Gonna deploy it tonight. I’ll give you updates.”

“Please don’t,” Jim says.

“You don’t have to play coy,” Red says confidently. “I know you’re interested.” His hand lands on Jim’s arm and starts a slow descent downwards. It’s very distracting.

“Right,” Jim says, a bit higher pitched than he intended. He takes a step back to break the contact. “You do that.”

Red laughs. “I’m looking forward to learning more,” he says and Jim can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice.

Jim hurries back to his room and tries very hard to remember why he puts up with Red in the first place.

 

* * *

 

“Tracey says I need more practice,” Red says, setting his tray down next to Jim’s.

“Then practice,” Jim says, staring down at his food. He doesn’t really have the strength to look Red in the eyes right now.

Red makes a thoughtful noise and nods. “Right, on my--”

“On her!” Jim interrupts. “That’s how you figure out what works and what doesn’t. Through experimentation.” He pushes his fork into his mashed potatoes and watches as it squelches up through the prongs. Fascinating.

“Ok,” Red says. “Can do. You got any more videos?”

“I do not,” Jim replies and shoves a heaping spoonful of potato into his mouth. There. Now at least he won’t have to talk for a while.

 

* * *

 

At about 3 AM in the morning, Jim’s work laptop lets off a ding and the screen glows briefly with a Skype notification. Jim squints at it sideways from his bed.

It’s a message from Red. It might be important, so Jim forces himself to get out of bed and check it.

It reads, “Maybe a live demonstration?”

When Jim’s sleep-addled brain catches up, and he realizes what Red’s talking about, he slams his laptop shut and goes straight back to bed. Jesus Christ.

He ignores the message when he wakes up and is eternally grateful that Red doesn’t mention it when they see each other later in the day. It’s the small things that count, he supposes.

 

* * *

 

“You got any videos on eating ass?” Red says over a game of checkers.

Jim double-jumps him out of spite. Red’s a horrible player. Jim’s been ignoring all of the open pieces Red had left to try to even the playing field. “I do not,” he says, pulling Red’s pieces from the board.

“So you don’t do that, then?” Red asks.

“Not with Tracey,” Jim replies. God, he can’t believe he’s talking about this. Maybe he can pay Red to shut up. He wouldn’t mind losing a few hundred just to put an end to all this.

“Cool,” Red says. He’s got another weird grin on his face like he’s got something planned.

Jim doesn’t really want to know, but his curiosity gets the better of him. “Why?” he asks.

“It means that if I can figure this out, it’ll have something you don’t.”

Jim stares at him, his mouth agape. “What is this, some kind of competition? A dick measuring contest?”

Apparently it wasn’t, because Red’s eyes light up and he has a new grin that is _not_ very hard to read. Jim instantly regrets every choice that he’s made since birth. The look doesn't last long though, and he looks to the side with some new thought (that Jim can't identify this time) on his mind.

“Nah, buddy,” Red says, apparently reconsidering. “I couldn’t do that to your ego.”

Jim allows himself a well-disguised breath of relief, ignoring the dig. “Thanks,” he says, trying to hide how grateful he actually is that he got out of whatever Red might have dreamed up.

Red only has one piece left on the board. The game’s as good as done. Red’s hand lands briefly on Jim’s neck as he passes by on his way out of the room. “Gotta dash, but we’ll pick this up later.”

“Great,” Jim says weakly. He closes his eyes and envisions a one-way ticket to literally anywhere else. Maybe he can become a llama herder. It sounds like a fucking dream.

 

* * *

 

Tracey slips out of bed and heads over to the cabinet to pour them both glasses of whiskey.

“So,” she says, handing Jim one of them, “is Red still going on about it.”

Jim takes a long sip and sets the glass on the bedside table. “Yeah.”

“That bad?” she asks. A sympathetic but slightly amused smile sits on her face.

“Worse,” Jim says. “I’m sure he’d just lay off it if you told him he’s better at sex.”

“What, and just accept his shortcomings in bed?” Tracey says sourly. “No way.”

Jim sighs. “Please?” he asks, though he knows it’s pointless.

“Sorry, man,” she says, getting back under the covers. Her free hand makes its way to Jim’s bare waist. “If it’s any consolation, you’re the better lay.”

“Thanks,” Jim says sarcastically.

Tracey smiles around the rim of her glass but doesn’t say a thing.

Jim sighs and rests his head back against the bed frame. If he wanted someone who would listen to him, he would’ve gotten a therapist. Some days, Tracey is just a more socialized and less impulsive version of Red.

 

* * *

 

The problem with this whole situation is that Jim knows that he loves Tracey and that he definitely has feelings for Red.

When he started up his arrangement with Tracey, he thought he could control his budding feelings for her, keep it to what they agreed on: no string attached, no feelings, no drama. He should have known better; he’s always had feelings to spare.

He really needs Red to stop talking about sex around him before he catches even more.

 

* * *

 

Red’s waiting outside Jim's door when he wakes up the next morning.

“I need a full list of all the tips and tricks you've got,” Red says, handing Jim a pad of paper and a pencil.

 

“A list of what?” Jim asks. Red crowds him back into his room and closes the door behind him.

“Anything you got on sex.”

“What! No!” Jim pushes the pad back into Red’s hands. “Red, what the fuck?”

“It's research, man, come on,” Red says. He tries to give Jim back the pad, but Jim isn't having it. “I thought we shared things!”

“Well, maybe not this!” Jim protests, twisting as Red tries to shove the pad between Jim’s crossed arms. “Besides, I'm pretty sure you don't want to know everything I know.”

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Red says because he’s straight and probably can’t think of Jim as anything other than perfectly heterosexual. Red changes tactics and tries to get a good grip on Jim's collar so he can drop the pad down his shirt.

“Red!” Jim protests. Red’s jumped up for a better grip on Jim’s clothes, but the shift in weight sends them both toppling to the ground. The pad of paper lands right on Jim’s chest.

Red looks completely unremorseful. “Sharing,” he says, “is caring.” He’s on the ground right next to Jim, his breath coming in puffs on Jim’s ear. It’s way too early for Jim to deal with any of this right now.

“So you aren’t going to help me?” Red whines. He props himself up on his shoulders so he’s looking down at Jim. Jim squints at him and tries for a glare. He must have gotten it right because Red tries harder.

“Look,” Red says, “we’re friends, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And you want me to be happy, right?” Red continues.

“Sure,” Jim says.

“Then,” Red reasons, “if I get better in bed, then I’m happy and Tracey’s happy, and if Tracey’s happy then you’re happy, and if we’re all happy, then I won’t have to pester you with all these questions, and you’ll be even happier, and everything will be good, right?”

It kind of makes sense, but it’s far from enough to be persuasive. “Maybe I don’t want to talk about having sex with you,” Jim says, like a liar.

Red actually looks hurt by that. Jim’s about to apologize when Red says, “Do I look, like, ugly to you or something?”

Red’s face is still painfully close to Jim’s, and Jim’s suddenly having a very hard time figuring out where to look. “That’s not the issue!”

Something that looks like relief--but can’t be because that doesn’t make any sense--washes over Red’s face. “Alright,” Red says, “then what is?”

“It’s just--It’s weird for me, man,” Jim says. “Sex isn’t something that I really talk a lot about, and you’re, y’know, you.”

Red looks confused. “I’m, y’know, me?” he asks. “I don’t get it.”

Jim shrugs and pushes himself up into a sitting position. Red leans back so they don’t bump heads. Jim can't really explain it without getting into his own feelings, and that's not something he's willing to do. He's really talked himself into a corner this time. Thankfully, Red’s just on the side of oblivious that he might be able to get out of it.

Feigning calm, he says, “Yeah, me neither.” He claps a hand on Red’s shoulder and grins.

Apparently it works because Red grins too and stands up, offering a hand down to help Jim up. “Yeah, c’mon buddy, let’s go get some breakfast.”

 

* * *

 

Tracey texts Jim a photo of some quart containers of vanilla ice cream from their local supermarket. She captions it with, “Red”.

It takes Jim a second to get it, but when he does, he presses the call button right away.

“Hey, Jim,” Tracey says when she picks up after the second ring.

“Hi, Tracey,” Jim says as sweetly as he can. “I got your image, and I’m wondering if perhaps there is something you are trying to imply?”

“You have so much power in your hands,” Tracey says. “You could make him a genuinely good lay. It would revolutionize my entire life.”

“By sending him educational videos?” Jim asks.

Tracey coughs and snorts at the same time. “Is that how you’ve been teaching him? Damn, that explains some things.”

“What did you think I was doing?” Jim asks, a faint concern pushing at the edge of his conscious.

“I don’t know,” she says, “but I think you need to try something different.”

 

* * *

 

It takes two beers and a lonely night (he doesn’t want to think about what drinking alone in his room says about his emotional health) before Jim’s the one wandering through the corridors until he winds up at Red’s door.

He really should head back, but the door swings open and Red’s standing there, smiling like the sun. Jim feels his mood lift a little, completely unbidden.

“Jim!” Red greets and wraps an arm around Jim’s shoulders, all but pulling him into the room.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Jim says, stepping around the stack of unfinished paperwork that’s piling up at the foot of Red’s desk.

“Nah,” Red says. “Just staring at the ceiling. It’s about as boring as it sounds. So what brings you here?”

Jim shifts. “Didn’t feel like being alone I guess. Also, I’m ready to talk about...that.”

Red blinks.

“I had some beer,” Jim tries to explain. “It should help me get over my reservations talking about, ah, sex with you.”

“Oh!” Red says and any confusion he had clears from his face. “Great, I’ll get the pad.”

“Ah, no, actually,” Jim says, moving between Red and the desk. Red nearly bumps against him, close enough for Jim to really catch his scent. He smells like the gym, which really isn’t a good smell. It only makes it harder for Jim to understand why he likes it. “I was actually thinking this might be more of a discussion than a lecture.”

“Sounds fair,” Red says, and he steps back from Jim’s personal space and takes a seat on his bed. “Discuss away.”

Jim snags a fold-out chair. “Right, so, uh, the first thing I do in a new relationship is I try to figure out what the other person likes, either by asking or like trying different things when we’re...intimate.”

“Okay,” Red says, genuinely thoughtful, like exploration actually isn’t something that’s occurred to him before.

“There’s nothing written anywhere that says sex had to be the same, mechanical thing every time,” Jim says.

Red looks a little offended, but they’ve known each other long enough that Jim knows Red doesn’t mean anything particularly bad by it. “Are you just guessing about that?” Red asks.

“Tracey told me,” Jim replies. He feels a bit lightheaded, partially from the alcohol, partially because he’s _actually_ talking about this.

“Aww, you guys talk about me?” Red has this grin on his face that puts something warm at the base of Jim’s stomach.

“Only to talk shit about you,” Jim says. Red’s smile is a bit infectious, and he feels the corners of his own mouth tugging upwards.

“Yeah,” Red says. “Love you too.”

“Anyways,” Jim says, “have you ever actually just straight up asked Tracey what she wants?”

“Aren’t you like, not allowed to do that?” Red asks.

Oh, that’s absolutely wild. Why is Tracey even with him? “Buddy,” Jim says. “Pal, no. That’s the rules. That’s what you’re supposed to do. You don’t just say, ‘Let’s have sex!’ and pick from, like, one of three standard paths. It’s not a formula. It’s something that can grow and shift depending on your and your partner’s changing needs.”

“I don’t think I’m as bad as you’re suggesting,” Red says, a little humorously at first, but he actually sounds pretty genuine when he continues, “but thanks for telling me that. I’ve never really had a relationship this long before, and no one ever really told me anything when I was a kid.” He scoots forwards a bit, his knees bumping with Jim’s. The slight buzz from the beer lets Jim not look too far into it.

“So what you’re saying is that I need to ask Tracey what she wants, but that I also have to experiment too,” Red says.

Jim nods. “So you can find more stuff that one or both of you like.”

“Okay,” Red says. “That makes sense.” He clasps his hands together and rests his elbows on his lap. His arms form a V that frames his abs rather nicely. Jim forces himself not to stare.

“Learning is part of the experience. Success makes it sweeter,” Jim says. It’s getting harder to think, but he’s not sure if it’s because the beer’s wearing off or that the room’s getting warming with two bodies instead of one, or if it’s because the distance between him and Red is shrinking, and he doesn’t know who’s responsible.

Jim’s watch beeps to signal the changing of the hour, and he takes it as an out. “Hey, I’ve got some stuff to do early tomorrow, so I gotta run,” he says, standing up. It’s a bullshit lie, given that tomorrow’s a Saturday, and if Red bothers to think about it, he’ll see through it pretty quickly. Jim hopes he doesn’t.

“Alright,” Red says, standing up. His warm hand lands right on Jim’s shoulder and stays there for a second before he lets it drop. “Thanks, man. Let’s do this again sometime, yeah?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Jim says quickly and flees.

 

* * *

 

Jim wakes up sometimes with his heart racing and the image of some sweeter life fading quickly from the edges of his consciousness.

When he was a little kid, it was usually about becoming an astronaut and going to space to find aliens. When he got to high school, his dreams redirected to Kyle, the captain of the chess club with his soft brown eyes and steady hands, and Liz from the Lacrosse team with her broad shoulders, strong thighs, and impish grin.

If he thinks hard about it, he remembers scenes from domestic fantasies: a meal warm on the stove, cuddling up on the couch, a smoldering fireplace and itchy blankets.

By late college, 75% into his aeronautical engineering and physics degrees, he starts to dream about space again. His dreams briefly court the idea of raising a family on Mars, but it goes away quickly when he has to finish writing his theses, and suddenly he's not sleeping anymore.

Later, when he becomes a test pilot for the military, he falls in love with his co-pilot, Cindy, with her lightning-fast reflexes and brain like a computer. She's gay, closeted like he is, so he ignores his feelings and never mentions them, and they bond over the camaraderie of their shared experiences.

Their friendship is more than enough. He dreams of them changing the world together.

She moves on eventually, leaving for a different country and finding herself a wife. They build robots together.

Here, he dreams of Tracey and Red, sometimes one, sometimes both. It’s something of a dilemma, given that Tracey’s only interested in sex and that Red’s his best friend and very relentlessly straight. (Not to mention that they're already in a relationship together and he's just the third wheel.) Normally he’d compartmentalize, push the feelings aside to where he doesn't have to deal with them, but it just doesn't seem to work this time around.

The why is simple enough—it's because he's around them all the time. It’s because he actually has a friends-with-benefits style relationship with Tracey. It's because Red seeming doesn't have any issues pushing through all the normal human boundaries (he's the closest friend that Jim’s ever had) and also probably because he won't stop asking him about sex.

Jim’s heart has always been an overeager opportunist, jumping at any chance to develop feelings for someone.

He can't keep doing this. At some point, he's going to burst or break, and something will have to change and probably for the worse. He's going to have to do something about this before it comes to that.

 

* * *

 

Damage control.

That’s what Jim tells himself when he sends Tracey a vague text about being attracted to Red in the middle of the night.

Tracey starts typing something almost immediately, but she must change her mind about it because she never actually sends the message and the dots on the left-hand corner of the screen disappear.

It’s way worse than her not replying at all. It’s hard for him to get to sleep after that.

 

* * *

 

Tracey’s standing outside his room when he wakes up. “I felt like this was more of an in-person conversation,” she says, by way of an explanation and then proceeds to walk down the hallway towards the exit. Jim stares at her for a few seconds before running to catch up.

They get a table in the far corner of a fast-food restaurant. Tracey gets a large cup of orange soda to go along with her pancakes. Jim expects her to start talking, but all she does is drink slowly, watching him consideringly without saying a word.

“You deserved to know,” Jim says, quickly and kind of defensively. Tracey raises an eyebrow. “It’s not like a kink thing, honest, but these feelings I have, I’m not naïve enough to think that they’re not going to change something about how I interact with the both of you, no matter how much I want them not to.”

Tracey slurps on her soda hard. “Wait, so when you sent that, you weren’t, like, saying you were going to do something about it.”

“I wasn’t,” Jim says, perhaps a touch more emotive than he intends. “Look, it’s just something that might potentially complicate things, and I want you to be informed. It’s communication.” He’s presenting it as a simple thing, but he knows that it really, really isn’t. At least Tracey hasn’t said anything about him basically coming out as bi.

Tracey nods. “Okay, yeah, that makes sense.” She sets her soda aside and leans back in her booth. “Look, if you wanna have sex with him, and he’s okay with it, you won’t find me protesting. It’s not like you have romantic feelings for him.”

Jim winces before he can stop himself and Tracey catches it. She blinks a few times and her eyebrows shoot up. “Damn, really?” she asks.

It’s as good of a time as any to come clean. He really likes his relationship with Tracey, but if it’s going to cause problems, it’s something he can leave behind. It hurts to think about, but yeah. That’s something he can do.

“It’s, ah-- It’s not just him. It’s you too,” he says. “I have feelings for you.” The words are heavy and sticky in his mouth and his heart feels like it’s stopped altogether.

Tracey slowly pulls her soda back in front of her and takes a long sip. When she swallows, she says, “Hey, buddy, that’s really complicated.”

“Yeah,” says Jim. “Yeah, I know. I tried not having them, managing them, but it’s not going too well.”

Tracey tilts her head forward, neutrally and not sympathetic.

“I understand that this is my problem to deal with and not either of yours, so I can back off if you want me to, keep my distance and just be a friend,” he continues.

Tracey looks down at her soda for a moment and then back up again. “I don’t think you need to do that,” she says. “I’ve never been one for relationships that weren’t straightforward, so I don’t really know what to say to you right now, but I think that you should talk to Red about it first before you go making any big changes.”

Jim takes a long breath. He’s not sure what he’s feeling if it’s relief or fear or something else. “Okay,” he says. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Cool,” Tracey says, but she doesn’t sound as nonchalant as she probably intends.

 

* * *

 

Jim sends Red a cryptic text about meeting up for lunch. Red, who is stunningly incapable of experiencing any kind of anxious thought, just sends back a string of thumbs up emojis and smiley-face.

He throws himself into his work, proofing the proposal for some upgrade for the giant robots, something about a better functioning GPS. When his alarm finally rings at 11:30, it startles him out of the comfortable state he'd worked himself into and releases a flood of butterflies into his stomach. Jim tries to settle himself and then reaches for his phone to turn the alarm off. Okay. Time to start winding down.

He shows up at Red’s office at ten before to pick him up and he drives them both to the cheap dine-in place that they'd both agreed was good a few months ago.

“Oh, hey,” Red says, “good choice, I love this place.” He reaches over to the car door handle and is about to open the door when Jim finally summons up the necessary courage and rests a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Wait,” he says, somehow able to keep most of the tremble out of his voice. “There’s something I’ve got to talk to you about before we go in.”

“Yeah?” Red asks. “Ok, cool, go for it.” He leans back into his seat, comfortable and completely open. It makes this harder.

“I--” Jim tries, but his throat closes up and his voice crackles out unceremoniously. He’s not sure what he would have said if it hadn't, because he has no idea where to start this conversation. He tries to cover his slip-up in a cough, but too much time has already passed.

“You okay there, bud?” Red asks.

“Yeah, I’m--I’m good, it’s just really hard to put into words,” Jim says.

Red shrugs. “Can’t be that hard. Words are words and all.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Jim protests. “Look, you’re my best friend, right?”

“That’s a given, buddy,” Red says, more impatient for food than anything.

“Yeah, okay,” Jim says, and then, with his voice probably an octave higher, “and I care for you a lot. Probably more than a friend should.”

Red blinks his face the clear visage of confusion. “I don’t think I’m getting what you’re saying.”

“I like you,” Jim says frantically, “a lot. Romantically, sexually. Tracey too. I like her too--in both ways, like I do you, and I’ve got no clue what to do with it. All I can think of is to back off and leave you two alone and--”

He’s cut off when Red leans over and puts his hands around behind Jim’s head, pulling him into a searing kiss. Jim’s startled, which makes it easier for him to not kiss back because _this was not what he was expecting at all_.

When Red finally backs away, Jim can only stare at him in confusion. “Buddy, bro,” he says. “Why would you do that.”

Red grins and says one word: “Threesome.”

Jim sighs and clasps both of his hands together in his lap. “I don’t think you get it.”

“I get it,” Red says. “Look, I get it. Your romantic feelings, they aren’t a problem. I didn’t want you to have them for Tracey, because that’s not sharing, that’s taking, and there's jealousy there, but now that you have them for me too, I don’t really see the problem here.”

Jim gapes at him. The words don’t come to him, but they seem to be coming for Red just fine.

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal,” Red continues. “You and me, you and her, me and her, it sounds nice.”

“Okay,” Jim says, completely and utterly confused. The pieces aren’t fitting together at all in his head. “Okay, but, like, do you even like me like that?”

“I would have sex with you,” Red says completely without hesitation. 

It’s not the answer to the question he asked, but it was the answer to a question he had tried desperately not to think about in the past. It also provided one piece of critical information: Red isn’t straight. That alone is worth a week’s time in introspection.

“Like, romantically,” Jim says.

Red shrugs, which isn’t promising. “I care about you, yeah? I think that’s enough. Some days I’m not too sure that me and Tracey like each other romantically, but when we’re happy, we’re happy. I’ve never looked into it too much.”

Jim doesn’t really know what to say about this, because he’s pretty damn sure that’s not how relationships actually _work_. Still. How things actually are and Red being Red, they’re two completely different things.

Red must take his silence as acquiescence because he smiles and says, “Anyways, I’ll have to talk to Tracey about it when we get back. Let’s go get some food. I’m starving.” He leans over and pecks Jim on the cheek like that's _something he does normally_ and hops out of the car.

Jim gulps in a huge breath of air and shakily goes to follow him.

 

* * *

 

“I talked to Tracey,” Red says, swinging his staff around in an attempt to land a blow to Jim’s right side.

“Yeah?” Jim asks, holding up his own staff in both hands to parry. Bam. Bam. Bam. It’s like Red isn’t even trying.

“Yeah,” Red says. He goes low. Jim blocks again, this time sending the tip of Red’s staff far to the side. Red loses time bringing it back in, and Jim takes the change to increase the distance between them. Red wipes a hand through the sweat on his forehead and wipes it off on the leg of his pants. “She says that she’s down for a relationship threesome.”

“Generally, people call it polyamory,” Jim says, planting the end of his staff on the training room floor.

“Doesn’t sound as cool,” Red says. “Anyways, we both figured that you could supply enough romantic feelings for the three of us, so we didn’t really have to worry about it.”

For all of Red’s strange conceptions of how people work, Jim can’t really bring himself to protest this one because, yeah, he really is like that, overflowing with feelings, and it means something big to him for Tracey and Red to think of that as an _asset_ instead of a hindrance.

Jim lets himself smile, letting all of the love he’d buried deep bubble up to the surface. It must be enough of an answer for Red because he grins back and claps him on the shoulder before heading to the other side of the room to put his and Jim’s staves away.

“When we’re done here, Tracey wants to meet up for drinks,” Red says. “The usual place, but you’re paying this time because it’s a date.”

“Sure,” Jim agrees because he’s too happy to care.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't talk about Sex with people, and I think it shows lmao
> 
> the great thing about underdeveloped characters is that everything is in character...


End file.
